


But my busy mind is burning

by dotfic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-12
Updated: 2011-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-15 14:46:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/161876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dotfic/pseuds/dotfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean can only sit and do research for so long before he starts getting restless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But my busy mind is burning

**Author's Note:**

> Posted in honor of Dean Winchester's birthday and written for blindfold_spn for the prompt _I want Castiel looking through tomes/researching over at Bobby's place. Dean, tired of Castiel ignoring him in favor of musty books, decides to do them both a favor and slowly beguile Cas into fucking then and there. Preferably up against a desk. Books and things being knocked onto the ground. The works. Bottom!Cas would be great, but I wouldn't say no to bottom!Dean, either._
> 
> Title from Rodgers and Hart. Set at some point not long after spn 5x04 if you want to place it.

When Castiel's reading, he really, really concentrates as if he's using his whole body to do it. Dean likes watching him, keeps glancing up from the book open in front of him on the desk, notices Castiel's tongue touching the point of his upper lip, small furrow forming between his eyes.

Whatever Cas reads is a maze of symbols and text, scattered with scribbled notes left by persons -- or beings -- unknown a long time ago. His fingers rest very still against the edge of the page, comfortable, unless it's time to turn a page and then he does it with slow deliberation, keeping his gaze down.

Dean's not sure how he feels knowing Castiel looks at Dean with a similar level of intentness sometimes, and it's either that Castiel looks at Dean the way he looks at some dusty volume of obscure languages, or that Castiel looks at Dean the way he looks at something that could hold a key to saving the entire freakin' world.

There's a knot in the middle of Dean's back from the hours they've been at this, Dean in Bobby's chair, Castiel in the chair on the other side of the desk, stacks of books and an empty pizza box between them. His eyes itch from reading so much, from the dust.

He's also sick of sitting, it's stuffy even though the window's open, and Castiel isn't wearing his trenchcoat or his jacket. His tie hangs loose, his shirt sloppily open at the neck, which is all something that happened without Dean's urging, gradually, as they worked through the old volumes. Dean's an old hand at research and he's always taken good, detailed notes, but there's an apocalypse boiling in the pot and why let a perfectly good opportunity go to waste? Sam and Bobby won't be back with more books for hours, not until sunset at least.

He gets up from his chair. Castiel's glance goes towards him, one eyebrow rising and Dean makes like he needs to stretch, rolling his shoulders as he walks around the desk until he's behind Castiel.

"Hey," he says, and slides his fingers down over Castiel's shoulders. "What say we take a break?"

Castiel turns the page. "We have a lot of material to examine still."

"And we've been at this since breakfast."

"Yes, we have," Castiel says evenly. Beneath his fingers, Castiel's neck and shoulder muscles twitch but he otherwise gives no sign that he's paying attention.

It's annoying.

Dean slides one hand farther forward, palm finding the shape of Castiel's clavicle, fingers stroking over the hollow of his throat and Castiel's Adam's Apple dips as he swallows. Leaning down, Dean traces his tongue over the ridges of Castiel's ear, stops and says, voice low, "No rule that says we aren't allowed to take five."

Curling his hand into a fist, Cas tilts his head away from Dean's fingers and mouth. He brings his fist up to his face and coughs. His gaze is still on the page, but Dean catches the twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Uh-huh. So that's how it's going to be. Godamned tease. Dean slides his hand further south, pulls another button free on Castiel's shirt, unknots the tie, puts his hand on the warm skin of Castiel's chest. He brushes Cas's right nipple with his finger and likes the way Cas catches his breath at that, how his slacks are tenting with the shape of his desire.

Castiel looks down at the pages as if his stare could burn a hole in the paper. "This work can get quite wearying," Castiel concedes, his voice only a little unsteady as Dean's hand moves down over his stomach. Cas's abdominal muscles twitch in response. "I can't do it my habitual way, and this body...has its limitations."

"Yeah, but it also has advantages," Dean says, and now all the buttons are unfastened on Castiel's shirt. Dean reaches down and cups Castiel's erection.

Castiel lets out a sharp breath as his fingers jerk away from the edges of the book. Dean's not prepared when Castiel's abruptly on his feet, the wooden chair tipping over as Castiel grabs Dean's shirt and hauls him close, kissing him hard, tongue demanding, push its way into Dean's mouth. Dean can't help grinning around the kiss a little, letting Castiel in, his fingers splayed against Castiel's lower back as they push against each other, Castiel's fingers still twisted up in the cotton of Dean's t-shirt. Cas whimpers against Dean's mouth.

They kiss until it's hard for Dean to breathe, until all he can taste is Castiel. Dean's hands have somehow gone from Castiel's lower back to digging into his hair, pulling, holding on as if he's afraid Cas is going to vanish. Cas's fingers are at the button and zipper of Dean's jeans, tugging at the denim and the waistband of Dean's briefs until Dean's cock is free to the air. Before Dean can make any suggestions, Cas is on his knees, tongue teasing at the tip of Dean's cock.

"Cas," Dean says, grabbing at his hair, thinking maybe this is not going the way Dean expected, things never do with Castiel, as if everything's been flipped and it's Dean who needed to be stirred up and distracted instead of the other way around.

He stumbles back against the desk, and a book thumps to the floor as Castiel takes Dean into his mouth, teeth lightly grazing him. He reaches around so he can finger at Dean's hole, and it's too damn much, the wet heat of Castiel's mouth around his dick and Castiel's fingers pushing into him at the same time. Dean's hips jerk forward as Castiel takes him in deeper, breath from his nostrils hot against Dean's skin. "Cas," Dean says again, and Castiel's gaze is turned upward, locked on Dean's face like that's everything, that's the answer to saving the whole world.

"Castiel," Dean says, helpless to do anything but thrust into Castiel's mouth, the need for release growing unbearable, and he comes, vision whiting out around the edges and everything narrowing to the heat of Cas's mouth on him.

Dean has to lean hard against the desk, his legs suddenly wobbly, as Castiel rises fluidly to his feet. He kisses Dean, and Dean tastes himself on Castiel's tongue.

"I think you'd better fuck me now," Dean murmurs against his mouth, Castiel hard against his thigh.

Almost primly, Castiel steps back, stands there patiently while Dean goes over to his duffel and finds the lube tucked deep into one of the pockets. He doesn't bother with a condom -- doesn't need to with Cas, he's clean, and Dean is too last he checked, not that he could transmit anything to a friggin' angel anyway, right? He pushes the tube into Castiel's hands, unbuckles Castiel's belt and undoes the clasp on his slacks, tugs them down and then his boxers, kissing him all the while.

Castiel's fingers, slick with the lubricant, are working into Dean's ass again. He pushes a finger deeper in, hitting Dean's prostate and Dean groans, already half-hard again. Dean wraps his fingers around Castiel's cock, gives it a few slow, firm strokes and Castiel closes his eyes for a moment, jerking forward into Dean's hand.

"Turn around," Castiel says roughly, and Dean does it, hands braced against the desk, knocking a few papers to the floor. He's pretty sure Bobby wouldn't approve of this usage of his workspace but what he doesn't know won't hurt him.

Slow, with a care in his touch that gives Dean an odd ache somewhere in his chest, Cas moves his other palm over Dean's lower back, until they find rest at Dean's hip, holding him steady. He pulls out his fingers and pushes his length into Dean.

"Yeah, that's it," Dean says. "C'mon, I'm not made of glass, _do it_."

Castiel thrusts into him, the stretch and slide so incredibly good, and Dean needs this, skin to skin, and isn't sure any more if he can imagine not doing this with Cas.

It's like Cas can set off all his nerve endings at once. Even with Cas cut off from the heavenly host, his power reduced, there's something like a faint hum of energy beneath his skin, more heat than what's normal for a human. Almost like standing near power lines. Dean shifts his feet, widening the gap between his legs as much as he can with his jeans down around his ankles, inviting Cas deep in. Cas lets out a sound from deep in his chest, a whimper that turns into a long, shameless groan. Biting his lower lip, Dean turns to look over his shoulder because he wants to see this. He needs to watch Cas go undone and know he's the cause.

It doesn't take long. Cas thrusts into Dean, murmuring Dean's name under his breath until he shouts it as he comes, his head thrown back, fingers digging into Dean's skin so hard there will probably be red marks later.

Cas pulls out and Dean turns as they fold into each other, Dean wrapping his arms around Cas and Cas falling against Dean, hands against Dean's back. He fits into the spaces of Dean's body like he's always been there.


End file.
